59: Best For You
by cali-chan
Summary: Col. Shay forbids Carly from hanging out with Sam because she's a bad influence on his daughter. To say the foundations of the trio's friendship are shaken is an understatement. Shay family dynamics, Carly/Sam friendship, Freddie/Sam.


**Best For You**

**Author:** Carla, aka cali-chan  
**Rating:** PG.  
**Genre:** Friendship, drama, romance.  
**Pairings:** Freddie/Sam.  
**Canon/timeline:**Let's say after season four. The iCarlies are all Seniors in High School. Carly is 17 throughout the whole fic.

**Warning:** This is my semi-annual wangst dump. See, I don't usually like angst, or wangst, or even less _teenage_ wangst, so I don't write it either. However, I do believe the universe needs to be balanced so once a year... ish, I go against my principles and write something moderately wangsty. It's not even real wangst if you think about it- more like "wangst lite"- and it goes back to fluff near the end because I'm _me_ and I can't _not_ write fluff. But anyway, thing is, as this is mildly wangsty, the characters might be a bit more OOC than I usually write them. So please take that into account and please don't lynch me? ^^;;;

**Warning 2:** Oh, it's also _39 pages long._Yeah, you read that right. Don't ask, I can't even. D:

**Summary:** Col. Shay forbids Carly from hanging out with Sam because she's a bad influence on his daughter. To say the foundations of the trio's friendship are shaken is an understatement. Shay family dynamics, Carly/Sam friendship, Freddie/Sam.

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"..._Shampoodle_?" Carly asked, blinking owlishly, her expression half disbelieving and half amused.

Freddie snorted, from his place on Carly's couch. "That's the worst shop name I've heard since that one store that sold hairbrushes that was called 'We Sell Hairbrushes'," he commented, shaking his head as he laughed. It was a great idea for iCarly to come up with a list of the worst shop & product names they could find- he was sure their audience would be cracking up in their seats.

He was still laughing at the horrible name when he received a pillow to the face, courtesy of one Sam Puckett. "Shut it, Fredchester!" she exclaimed from where she was lying on Carly's bed, arms and legs spread out haphazardly in a completely comfortable way... to her, at least. "'We sell hairbrushes' is the best store name ever! Not that your opinion matters, anyway." She saw him glare at her and she smirked.

"Oh, whatever. You just want to disagree with me," Freddie retorted, throwing the pillow back at her with much less aggression. He fully knew that if he said white, she said black, regardless of the topic or how obvious it was that he was in the right.

She scoffed. "Of course I'll disagree with you when what you're saying is _stupid_," she shot back, triumphant.

Now _that_, Freddie wouldn't take. He rose off the couch, bristling. "The only _stupid _thing here is-"

"It's not that I don't like the name," Carly intervened, raising her voice slightly to try and break up the impending argument between her two best friends. "It's just so... restrictive. I mean, what if I want them to give a bath to, I don't know, my bunny?" she finished with a shrug.

"But you don't have a bunny," Freddie, ever Captain Obvious, was quick to point out.

"Bet they could give a bath to your goldfish, though," intervened Sam, in a "meh" tone. When both her friends turned to her with "what the hell" expressions, she shrugged. "What? You never know with people these days! You know _Gibby_ would try," she said, defensively.

Carly laughed at her best friend's silliness. "All I know is: Shampoodle is _definitely_ going on the list," she sentenced with a smile. She pointed a finger at Sam before the blonde could even open her mouth. "No arguments. It's two against one, so it counts." As she picked up the paper they were writing on and her pink, feather-tipped pen to write down the shop's name, she heard Sam muttering something about Freddie barely counting for anything. Then she heard Freddie groan. Their reactions made her chuckle.

She stretched her legs on her window seat as she wrote. Sam let her head fall back against Carly's pillows, closing her eyes. Freddie turned his back on them to play with Carly's little remote-controlled toy boats. In the silence, Carly thought she heard something as she finished writing the last E. "...Do you hear Spencer calling me?" she asked her two friends.

Both Freddie and Sam responded to her question by perking their ears toward the open door, and after a couple of seconds, sure enough, they heard a distinct "CARLAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!" coming from downstairs, in her brother's excited voice. "I'll go see what he wants," Carly said, putting pen and paper down and then walking out of the room. Freddie put down the remote control and followed after her about a minute later, with Sam taking a bit more time because she was too comfortable to get off the bed.

As Carly bounded down the stairs, she caught sight of her brother putting down two heavy travel bags by the couch, and then he grinned at her, standing beside their- "DAD!" She practically flew down the rest of the stairs and was in her father's arms in two seconds flat.

"Hey, baby," said the man, crushing his daughter to his chest. Steven Shay was a tall man, taller than anyone else in the room, and more on the thin side, although his frame was robust instead of lanky like Spencer's. He was still wearing his utility uniform, which included a cap, but one could easily see he was dark haired like his children. For a man in his fifties he looked remarkably young, and his smile as he hugged his daughter could've lit up a room.

By the time Freddie and Sam made it to the stairs' landing, Carly was already excitedly asking questions. "Oh my God! I can't believe you're here! How was Alaska? How long are you gonna stay? Oh, I'm so glad you're here!"

Colonel Shay laughed. "Actually, I'm staying for good this time. I've been honorably discharged," he added, pointing to his left leg, which was currently in a cast. "Not the best condition to be in, when you're stationed on a submarine."

"Oh, Dad! What happened?" the girl asked, stepping back a little so she could look at his leg, immediately growing concerned. One of her biggest fears was for something serious to happen to her father; military life was always a gamble.

The older man waved off her worries. "Ah, nothing. A bit of an accident during a fire drill. More clumsiness than anything else." He shrugged, the gesture reminiscent of Spencer's. "But at least it let me come home to my kids," he added, raising an arm to pat Spencer's shoulder and wrapping the other around Carly's.

"I'm so glad you're back," Carly grinned, snuggling against her father's side. Sam and Freddie looked at each other and smiled; they'd never seen Carly so happy.

"Well, I can still get called back once the leg heals," he explained, wanting to keep their expectations realistic. "However, I don't think that'll happen, if I have to be honest. The younger recruits are more than capable of taking care of things back there." He looked up and saw Carly's two friends witnessing the moment. "And you must be Freddie and Sam."

This comment prompted Carly to realize she was being a little rude. "Oh, right! I forgot to introduce you," she said, as Sam and Freddie made their way down the stairs. "You already know them from iCarly, but these are my best friends, Sam and Freddie," she added, pointing their way as she spoke. "Guys, this is my Dad."

"Hi," said Sam, extending a hand for Col. Shay to shake.

"It's nice to finally meet you, sir," Freddie said, offering a similar gesture. "Carly's told us a lot about you."

"Well, I've heard a lot about you two as well, from Carly and through the web show," Carly's dad explained, as he shook Freddie's hand. "Like, for example," he added, "I know you want to date my daughter." His eyes narrowed just the littlest bit. And he had a _really_ strong grip.

Freddie found himself gulping. "Oh- I- that was just- a silly crush, really," he sheepishly quipped, the man still keeping his hand in a tight hold. "I don't- anymore- I'm not- we're friends. And neighbors. Best friends," he added awkwardly. Sam and Carly snorted to keep themselves for bursting into laughter. Spencer actually laughed; Freddie's half-panicked expression was just too funny.

Sam just _had_ to intervene. "Suuuure. A seven-year-long 'silly crush'," she input, sarcasm clear to everybody who could hear.

Freddie glared at her. "Shut _up_, Sam! Not helping," he shot at her through gritted teeth. Sam smirked at him.

Finally, Col. Shay laughed heartily. "I'm just messing with you, kid," he admitted, letting go of Freddie's hand to clap him lightly on the shoulder. Freddie let out a relieved breath, and it was so funny Sam and Carly couldn't stop themselves from laughing anymore.

"I think to celebrate your return, we should go eat out, Dad," Spencer suggested, picking up one of his father's bags to take it to the guest room where he would be staying.

"That's a great idea, Spence," Col. Shay agreed, picking up the other bag to help his son. "We'll take a drive around first. It's been a while since I've been in Seattle, I'd like to see how much it's changed. And you guys are the best possible tour guides I could find! So let's say my treat?"

"Yesssss! Free meat!" was Sam's immediate reaction, of course. She thrust a fist in the air and immediately made her way to the door, like the meat would disappear if they didn't leave right at that moment.

Freddie rolled his eyes. "You really shouldn't have said that, sir."

Both Spencer and his father chuckled at the blonde's eagerness. Carly laughed; she was so happy to have her father back, she wasn't even worried about the state of his pockets after Sam's appetite was satiated. She tugged Freddie by the arm and the two went out to follow their hungry friend outside, while they waited for Col. Shay and Spencer to drop the bags off inside.

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Things went pretty smoothly in the Shay household over the next few days. It was a bit odd for Carly to adjust to having an actual father figure around- especially considering Spencer's, uh, _special_ brand of parenting- and eventually Spencer had to 'fess up on having dropped out of Law School but come onnnn, look at all the _awesome _sculptures he'd made! That was better than Law School, right? But apart from that, everything was going great. Carly had been smiling from dusk 'til dawn and it was contagious to everybody around her.

That was until two weeks down the road, on a Friday night.

Carly walked into her apartment, bag slung over her shoulder, at around eight thirty at night. Her father was in the kitchen making dinner (the man made a mean chicken cacciatore), although he looked at her over his shoulder and greeted her warmly. "Hi, sweetheart. How come you're home so late?" He'd been using the car and Spencer took out his motorcycle for a date, so the kids had had to walk home.

She slowly put her bag down on the sofa and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Oh, you know, just... stayed at school, working on a project."

He looked surprised. "On a Friday afternoon? That's industrious." He shrugged and went back to stirring the pasta. "Well, I'm glad you're working hard on your schoolwork."

Carly stood there awkwardly, balancing her weight from one leg to the other, compulsively. She felt wretched. She was such a flake, she knew; two seconds in and the guilt was already eating her alive but she was a bad enough liar in any other situation and she _really_ couldn't just lie to her father's face like this when she'd _just_ gotten him back. "We were at the police station!" she blurted out.

That made him pause in his stirring, and he turned around to look directly at his daughter. "I'm sorry? Why were you at the police station?"

Everything came blurting out of her mouth in some kind of word vomit. "We were on our way back from school, trying to decide if we should go see a movie or just head back home, but then we passed by a pet shop and Sam randomly wanted to know how much exotic cockatoos sold for- Freddie and I didn't even want to know why she needed to know that but we decided to go in just for kicks, and they had a few animals one could pet and stuff so Sam dared Freddie to pet a tarantula but he wouldn't, so to scare him Sam shoved the thing almost to Freddie's nose and all of a sudden he was scratching himself all over like he was having an allergic reaction or something, and he started scrambling for the list of allergies his mom had given him but none of us could find it in his bag because he'd left it at his locker- it's like fifty five pages long so she put it in a binder and he doesn't like carrying it around because it's really heavy- and in the middle of all the scrambling about he hit one of the reptile cages with his elbow and broke the lock and all the lizards got free and started running around the store, and we tried to catch them and put them back but then the manager noticed and he thought we were trying to sneak the animals out of the store so he asked Sam to show him her backpack and she wouldn't but he grabbed it away from her and found that she was carrying a pair of bolt cutters so he called the cops, and they took us to the station but we tried to explain that it was all an accident, and they believed us so they let us go and oh my God, I'm sorry, it'll never happen again, I swear," she finished, taking a deep breath after that was done. She had raised her hands to her face so tightly, she would probably have nail marks on her cheeks for a while.

Col. Shay took a moment to let things sink in, then turned off the stove, took off his apron and walked to the living room, so he could stand in front of his daughter in a properly intimidating "upset father" way. To say the man was overwhelmed by the tale would be an understatement. Still, he got the gist of it, and if there was one thing the Shays were known for, was their ability to grasp the most important concept out of a big amount of information. "...Why was Sam carrying a pair of bolt cutters in her backpack?" was what he arrived to.

Carly was so nervous, the thought of telling her father he was completely missing the point wasn't even on her list of active reflexive reactions. "There's a perfectly good explanation for that," she assured him, her voice shaky.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Which is?"

Carly opened her mouth to give him an answer, then closed it when she realized she had none. "Uh, there's a perfectly good explanation for that," she tried again.

It wasn't a very good try. "You'd need a legal guardian for the cops to release you under suspicion of vandalism. Who brought you home?" her father asked.

She cringed at the word "vandalism." It sounded so... bad. "Mrs. Benson," she admitted in a mutter. She thought it better not to mention that their first idea had been to call Sam's cousin Sam (don't ask) to come get them out- apparently her cousin had contacts in the PD, the blonde had explained, although she'd asked them not to mention that to anyone just in case, which told them those contacts were quite possibly not obtained in a legal way so they kept their mouths shut about it- but then Sam's cousin Sam couldn't get them out because they were minors and required presence of one of their guardians for that, and since Spencer wasn't her legal guardian anymore, they'd had a quick paper-rock-scissors match to decide whose parent they would call (Sam lost, but of course her mother wouldn't bother, so Carly and Freddie tried again and Freddie was the unlucky loser).

Col. Shay shook his head, disappointed, and walked past Carly and to the door, intending to walk across the hall. When he opened the door, however, he caught sight of Mrs. Benson standing in the hallway, giving Freddie a lecture, with Sam in tow, and it appeared to have been going on for a while. "Marissa," he tried to call her attention.

On hearing him call her, she paused her tirade. "Good night, Steven," she said in her characteristic forced politeness. Her voice was very shrill. "I trust Carly has already told you what our children have been _up to_?" She emphasized the last two words like they'd been planning someone's murder or something.

"Yes, she has." He turned to level a glare on his daughter, who had come up to stand slightly behind him. "I wanted to thank you for getting Carly back home safely."

"It was no problem," Mrs. Benson intoned, although the tightness in her lips said otherwise. "I just hope this won't become a common occurrence." She glared at Carly, then at Sam like they were at fault for all the world's evils, especially those surrounding her darling baby boy. "Fredward, I expect you home and in bed in twenty minutes." With that, she turned to open the door to their apartment.

"But it's only eight th-" Freddie tried to protest, but the sound of the door slamming closed interrupted his protest. Great; first they were picked up by the police, and now his mother closed their door on his face! What a day. "Okay, I guess I deserved that," he muttered, turning to the other three people standing in the hallway.

"All of you deserve that," Col. Shay added, giving the three teens a hard stare.

"Dad, it was an accident-" Carly tried to intervene, but her father cut her off by signaling with one hand for her to drop it.

"You might not have wanted it to end this way, but it all started with a tarantula being thrust into someone's face unexpectedly," he sentenced, turning to Sam. The blonde, who had not so much as uttered one peep since leaving the Bensons' car, felt a little surprised to be put on the spot so suddenly. "Why would you do that, Sam? And why would anyone carry bolt cutters in their backpack?"

"Well, I-" she started to explain, because unlike Carly she _did _have a good explanation for the bolt cutters, but apparently it had been a rhetorical question, as Col. Shay cut her off before she could say anything else.

"Never mind, there's no excuse," he shook his head in disappointment and all three teens seemed to shrink. But then he continued on the same train of thought. "I thought this whole thing about her being a criminal was just a gag for your web show."

"She's not a criminal-" Carly immediately reacted to the comment, trying to defend her friend.

"Has she really been to juvie?" her father asked her, cutting her off.

Carly was silent. She turned to look at Sam in concern, and so did Freddie, but the blonde was looking down at the floor, and looking rather stiff. "Then she's a criminal," Col. Shay sentenced, taking their silence to mean an affirmative answer. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Carly, but I'm afraid I can't let you be around Sam anymore."

Three stunned faces whipped up to look at him in shock. "What? Dad, you can't-!" Carly started, in disbelief.

"Yes, I can," he replied. And then came the dreaded words. "It's for your own good, Carly."

"But she's my best friend!" the brunette kept trying to protest.

Her father wouldn't have it. "Freddie, your mother is waiting for you. Sam, I'm going to have to ask you to go home. If you leave now you can still catch the 9:10 bus," he let her know, gravely. Carly was still trying to object, but kept getting stuck between 'if you just let me explain' and 'this is so unfair', so it wasn't very effective.

Sam, who had now moved past "stunned" and into "angry," responded with a "Fine!" through a tensed jaw, and quickly spun on her heel and started walking back toward the elevator.

"Wait, _Sam_!" Carly exclaimed, possibly feeling the most horrible she had ever felt in her entire life. She didn't even want to imagine what Sam must've been feeling at that point, and she didn't know what to do. She turned to Freddie, desperate, that question broadcasting through her eyes.

Freddie, who had been hopelessly looking at the spot Sam had just vacated, then at Carly, then back to Sam's empty spot and so on, cleared his throat. "I've got her," he said, giving Carly a signal to calm down. Then he dropped his bag by his apartment door and ran off after the blonde, hoping he could catch her before she left.

Carly felt a little bit better, knowing Freddie would try and take care of things on Sam's side. Still she glared at her father. "I can't believe you!" she exclaimed, and stalked back into their apartment, not even bothering with a look back before she took the stairs two steps at a time and went into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her with as much force as she could muster.

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When Freddie finally caught up with Sam, she was already outside the building, trying to hail a cab. It took him a while to get to the lobby, mainly because he had to run down seven flights of stairs, but also because he just _had _to stop between the fourth and fifth levels to scratch the sole of his left foot, which was still itching a little from his encounter with the tarantula. Antihistamines could only do so much.

"Sam, hold on!" he exclaimed, wholly out of breath (he _really_ had to start working out more, weights were clearly not doing it for him), as he made it out the main entrance. Lewbert's hysterical bellows about ungrateful "little kids" running all over his lobby could still be heard as the door closed behind him.

The blonde turned to him, her expression schooled in a mask of indifference. "Did you run all the way down here to ask me if I'm okay?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

He crossed his arms. "Yes," he told her, his tone firm. He could see she wouldn't respond to concern. "So... are you?"

She scowled at him. "I don't need a replacement Carly, okay?" A cab finally pulled up to the curb and she turned to get in, but then thought better of it and turned to Freddie once again, defiant. "In fact, I don't need Carly, period. I'm a big girl, and I don't need anyone babysitting me because they'll think I'll get in trouble the second they take their eyes off me. And I certainly don't need _you_." She turned again, opened the door of the cab and threw her bag in.

He had no time to wonder why it felt like she had ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. He stopped her with a hand on the door. "You don't mean that," he said, trying to get to her, but that wall she put up seemed to be made of titanium.

"Watch me mean it," she shot back, pushing him away from the door and slamming it closed.

The cab driver let out some sort of exclamation which Sam replied angrily. Freddie took the time to lean against the open window. "Look, we'll fix this, okay?" he told her, trying to somehow make her feel better. It was all just a misunderstanding, and her getting upset at Col. Shay and Carly and him and the world wasn't going to clear it up any faster.

"Leave me alone," she retorted, turning away from the window to give the cabbie her address. Then the car sped off down the street and Freddie was left standing there, watching as they drove away. When he lost sight of it, he sighed and went back inside, ignoring Lewbert and going straight to his apartment and his room, where he could sort this sudden mess of feelings in him on his own.

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Carly paced in the living room, all whipped up. Spencer, who upon receiving a distress call from his sister had to cut his date short to come back home, sat on the couch, forearms resting on his knees and being uncharacteristically somber. Col. Shay stood to one side, arms crossed and looking at his daughter gravely. "I can't believe you're doing this to me!" Carly exclaimed, gesticulating sharply with her arms.

Col. Shay sighed. "Carly. I know you care about Sam, and I know this is hurting you, but I think this is for the best. You're losing perspective here," he tried to make her see things from his point of view. "It worries me."

Carly was so angry, she actually scoffed. She _scoffed_. "What does that even mean?" She turned her heel and finally landed her eyes on her father, throwing him a glare as vicious as she had ever given anyone in her life. "What am I supposedly losing perspective _of_?"

"What being around Sam and her misbehavior could mean to you," her father retorted, trying to explain his position. "You're applying to some very exclusive colleges."

"So? I've got the grades to get in," Carly shot back. She usually didn't make it a habit of being defiant, but right now she definitely felt like it would be the appropriate response.

"Well, good grades are not all you need," the older man continued, with a shake of his head. "Your behavior also matters. Only one blotch on your record could be the blotch that puts you out of the running!" He took a hand to the bridge of his nose, like he was getting a headache from all this yelling. "You could've gotten arrested tonight."

"But we didn't!" Carly retorted.

"That doesn't matter. If you keep following Sam into trouble, eventually, _something_ will happen that will jeopardize your chances. I'm just trying to avoid that." To be fair, he seemed sincere in feeling this way. Spencer, at least, could see that he wasn't doing this just to be mean, he truly believed what he was saying- not that _that_ made what he was doing any better.

Carly wasn't seeing it, though. "This is so stupid," she let out, and Spencer was surprised by her harsh tone. "So Spencer can drop out of Law School to make crazy sculptures and suddenly _I'm _the one that's ruining her chances at life before they even start?" She shifted her eyes to her brother momentarily. "No offense."

"Yeah, that doesn't hurt at all," Spencer muttered, somewhat bummed by her comment. He knew she was upset and she was saying things she didn't mean, though, so he let it slide.

"Spencer is thirty. I can't tell him what to do with his life," Col. Shay retorted, pointing a hand at his son. Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Carly took one step closer to her father. Ironically, it was a trick she'd learned from Sam, but seeing as she was _Carly_, it didn't exactly come across as threatening when she did it. But still. "Well, I'm almost an adult!" she threw in.

Col. Shay shook his head. "But you're not one yet. And until you turn eighteen, I'm afraid you're just going to have to do what I'm telling you," was his final sentence.

"But-!" Carly's bravado was fading fast. Now she was just getting desperate. "Well, what about iCarly? I can't do it without her and you _know _how important the web show is for me!"

"iCarly was fun while it lasted, and it does look good on your resume, but it's time to really prioritize, Carly," Col. Shay refused her argument. "You know you couldn't keep doing it forever. It just happened a little earlier than you expected."

"Look, Dad," Spencer intervened, seeing that his sister was about to break. "I've gotten to know Sam very well, and yes, she's a little... out there, but it's really not as bad as you're-"

His father cut him off with a signal of his hand. "I'm sorry, Spencer, but I can't really trust your judgment when you've let your younger sister be friends with someone who's been to juvenile rehabilitation _three times_."

"Well, everybody deserves a second chance-"

The man would have no excuses. "_Three times_, Spencer."

The fact that he would doubt Spencer's word revved Carly up again. "Don't talk to him like that!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger in her father's direction. "You have no right! You've been out of our lives for the last _nine years_ and all of a sudden you come back and you think you know better? You don't even know Sam, or what our friendship is like!" She didn't mean to throw that back in his face, she was proud of what her father did, serving his country- she really was, but she couldn't help it, she needed to let everything out.

Her father wouldn't budge, though. That's military for you. "You- You can't stop me from seeing her at school, you know," she tried going at it from a different angle. "It's not like I can skip every class I have with her. So what are you going to do, dress up as a janitor so you can check that I don't talk to her?"

Spencer snorted, somewhat sheepish. "Now, who would do something as stupid as _that_?" he laughed, shaking his head. His feeble attempt to lighten the mood was met with no reaction, and he concluded it would be best if he didn't go down that route.

The two went on as if he had never spoken. "You're right, I can't stop you from talking to her when you're at school," Col. Shay admitted with a nod. He sat down on the couch beside Spencer. "However, I would expect that if you respect me at all, you will try to stay away from her, as I've advised you."

Carly exhaled heavily. "That's not fair," she said, and dropped herself on the seat on her brother's other side. She looked exhausted. She _felt_ exhausted. She couldn't believe her Dad was basically making her choose between him and her best friend.

She was so conflicted. She could try to trick her way out of it, of course, like she had with Spencer that one time he wouldn't let her see Griffin. Thing was, this was her _father_, she was fairly sure he wouldn't fall for it as easily. And anyway, she wasn't sure she wanted to trick him like that. She loved her father; more than that, she idolized him, and she was ecstatic he'd come back to them- she couldn't push him away or do anything that might disappoint him. She would hurt herself doing so. On the other hand, this was _Sam_. She was so much more important than any boyfriend. She didn't know how she could ever be happy without Sam in her life. She rested her elbows on her thighs and put her face in her hands. "Oh God, Sam must be feeling horrible..."

Col. Shay sighed. "Carly. Sweetie," he started, leaning forward so he could see her past Spencer. "I know this is hard for you, and it's killing me to see you suffer like this. I know you're trying to help Sam be a better person, and that's a great thing. But at some point you have to think about yourself. Sam will be fine, and you're a smart, sweet, funny girl. I'm sure you'll have no problem making other friends."

Carly let out a laugh that held no amusement whatsoever. "And none of them will be even half the best friends Sam and Freddie are." She shook her head, and wiped tears off her cheeks. "You just don't get it, Dad. Sam's not my charity pet project, okay? I don't want to _fix _her, I love her just the way she is. Sure, she can get a little crazy sometimes, and she likes insulting people... or kicking them, or punching them, or giving them wedgies... but deep down, she is the best person you will ever meet."

She wrapped her arms around her torso, like she was hugging herself, and looked down at the coffee table. "And I don't know why she chose to open up to _me_ of all people, but she lets me see that side of her without hesitation, and I'm a better person _for _it. She's... so strong, and so honest. She lets you know exactly what she thinks, no matter what. She makes you feel confident just by being around, and even if she insists she's not 'the mushy type', when you need her, she'll be there to hug you, or let you cry on her shoulder, or beat someone up for you if that's what you need. I honestly don't know what I would've done without her all these years."

She turned to her father, her teary eyes almost begging him. "Please, Dad. Don't make me do this." She wiped away the tears that were still falling, and sniffled.

Spencer remained silent, and so did their father. For a while there, Carly thought she had convinced him to drop the issue. However, her heart broke all over again when, after about a minute, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, baby. I have to put your safety first." She started crying again and he stood up to try and hug her, but she pushed out of his arms and ran upstairs, to her bedroom.

Both men watched her go, with heavy hearts. "How long will she hate me, do you think?" The older man asked, sounding grim.

"She doesn't hate you." Spencer ran a hand through his hair, wondering what he could do to make this situation better. It seemed to be lose-lose at this point, and Spencer really had no say on the way his father raised Carly anymore. All he could do at this point was offer his advice. "I really don't think you should've done this, Dad. Sam's a good kid, and Carly's got a good head on her shoulders."

"I know she does, but there are things she can't control," Col. Shay intoned, almost in a sigh. "She'll be okay, I'm sure. Time heals. It always does," he finished, and with one last clap on Spencer's shoulder, walked down the hallway to his bedroom.

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Carly didn't think she could feel anymore disheartened, but then Monday came.

Her and Freddie entered her apartment in a slump, after a ride from school in complete silence. Carly had tried to talk to Sam and apologize about her father several times over the course of the day. Every time, she was ignored. One time Sam even shoved her aside with her shoulder; she couldn't remember that ever happening before, and it tore at her. Freddie tried to talk to her, too, and wasn't met with much success either: the most he got out of her were snide remarks- at least that hadn't changed, but he had to admit her words had an edge they hadn't had for a long time... like she really meant them.

Carly dropped her bag on one side of the couch, then let herself fall down on the cushions with a 'poof'. "She hates me," she sentenced, corners of her lips falling as she dejectedly looked at the coffee table where her father's mug rested.

Freddie sighed. "She doesn't hate you," he told her, ironically using Spencer's phrase from Friday, although neither of them could know about it, for they hadn't been there. Only, Freddie's version was nowhere near as sturdy, because honestly, he was beginning to think Sam really hated them both. He was only saying this for Carly's sake. "She's just angry," he added, if only because angry Sam made sense to them.

The girl shook her head. "Freddie, I can't stand not knowing what's going on with her," she started, half desperate, scootching a little closer to where her friend was standing, his backpack still slung over his shoulder. "You know how she gets when we're not around. I'm afraid something will happen to her."

Freddie knew what she was asking, and it made him groan. "She _said_ she doesn't need a babysitter. She _told_ me so," he reminded her, his tone bitter still at Sam's parting words the last time she had been at Bushwell. He didn't like thinking about it because it made him feel sick to his stomach.

"She doesn't need a babysitter, but she does need a friend," Carly retorted. She tugged at Freddie's sleeve. "She won't let me come near her, so I need you to be with her, Freddie. Make sure she's alright." She saw his reluctance, and she knew he was having doubts because Sam's words had hurt him- he'd thought they were getting closer, they were reaching a comfortable level in their odd friendship, and then she'd dumped that on him and it was devastating to hear- but she wouldn't let him let go of Sam that easily. "She needs you. She does, I know it," she tried to sound as determined as she could.

She was getting to him. It made him feel a bit queasy, the idea of trying to approach Sam once more after his attempts at comfort were rejected again and again, but Carly sounded so certain. "...What about you? You're hurting, too," he said. He didn't want to choose one friend over the other. He wouldn't.

She almost smiled at him. "I'll be okay. I have Spencer, and... we're working on trying to get Dad to see things our way. We'll fix this." She bit her lip. "But it may take a while. Until then, can you just... please be with Sam?"

She raised hopeful eyes on him, and he knew he couldn't refuse. He sighed. "...For you? Anything."

"No," Carly shook her head emphatically, laying a hand on his forearm. "For _her_."

Her words hit him hard, and of course, he knew she was right. Whenever the girls had an argument, he usually took Carly's side because he could understand her, and he knew what she needed, and what he could give her to make her feel better. With Sam, it was the exact opposite; he never stood on solid ground when she was upset, he always felt like he was scrambling for resources that just weren't there, and he had no way of knowing what she was thinking, because she would never let him know.

But he knew, after their confrontation on Friday, that what he wanted most was for Sam to be okay. To see her laugh and tease him and not just stand around dodging everybody's eyes like she was pushing the entire world away. He probably couldn't solve the entire situation with Col. Shay, but he could do his best to make sure his relationship with Sam wasn't affected by it. And he would. He would do this for her.

He nodded, sincere, and Carly smiled and gave him a grateful hug.

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On Tuesday afternoon, instead of riding home with Carly like he usually did, Freddie decided to take Sam's route instead. The blonde had already left school premises, it seemed, but he hoped he could catch up to her. She could be wicked fast if she put her mind to it.

He walked by a park and was surprised to see her sitting to the back of it, on top of a brick wall which marked the perimeter of the play area. In any other situation he would've thought she was planning a prank on the noisy little kids that were playing around, but he could see from her unfocused expression that she wasn't, this time.

He put his bag on the ground and sat on the wall beside her. She scowled at him. "Geez, Benson, you just can't catch a hint, can you?" She shook her head.

He shrugged. "Nope." He stretched his legs- he'd been walking for a while and was starting to get leg cramps; had he forgotten what it was like to walk after Carly started driving them around? Before she could open her mouth to tell him off, he intervened. "And I'm not here to babysit you," he affirmed, although he wasn't looking at her, but that was on purpose. He was trying to be nonchalant, hoping that would make her settle on a less threatening mood. "I just want to hang out with you. Is that a problem?"

She grumbled. "It is for _you_, because it means you have a death wish."

He chose to ignore that. "When I first saw you sitting here, it kinda looked like you were trying to play a prank on the kids on the swings," he said, trying to find neutral territory that would guarantee his physical safety. He'd already been pushed against the lockers once by her that day, he didn't want to add a concussion via blunt force trauma against a brick wall to that. Pranks were a good topic. Pranks might get her excited.

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "What if I was? Are you going to turn me in to the cops or something?"

He groaned at the comment. "Okay, you have to stop that. You _know_ Carly and I don't think you're a criminal. That's just stupid."

She scoffed. "Funny, I didn't hear _you_ defending me or anything last Friday," she shot back, glaring at him in a way that was more efficient than any accusing finger.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Come on, give me a break here. He's Carly's dad! I'm just the random next-door neighbor, who am I to tell him how to raise his daughter? How could I ever have convinced him that he was wrong?" he questioned. If that's what she was angry about, it was a lousy reason to be angry.

"Right, don't want to get on your future father-in-law's bad side," Sam muttered under her breath.

"That's not what this is about!" he shot back, almost an instinctive reaction. She knew very well that he no longer felt that way about Carly, so he couldn't understand why she was still hung up on that. Given the disgust she'd always expressed when he'd shown his affection for their mutual best friend, he would've figured she'd be the most ecstatic that he'd gotten over his crush. "And you're not angry about me not defending you, because Carly did try and you're not talking to her either. So what's the deal, huh? What are you _really _mad about?" he prodded, hoping he might unsettle her enough to get her to talk.

"Just the fact that you won't back off!" she replied, trying to push him off the brick wall.

He resisted as best as he could. Well, working out was beginning to pay off. "And why would I have to back off?"

"Because he's right, okay?" And finally, there it was, but Freddie was shocked because it wasn't the answer he was expecting. Sam seemed to realize one second too late what she had said, and immediately lowered her eyes away from his. "I'm just..." She swallowed heavily. "You and Carly have such great futures up ahead," she started, closing her eyes. "And I'm such a screw-up. I'll always be a screw-up. Carly's dad is right, you shouldn't be around me. I'll only drag you down," she finished, with a dejected shrug.

He stared at her, slack-jawed. "Sam..." he started, then his breath caught because, really, he had no idea what to say. He was so used to thinking of Sam as this ball of pride and confidence and energy that he never would've imagined she was pushing them away because she felt insecure. What could he say to that? "That's..." He shook his head as if to clear it. "You can't seriously believe that. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Okay, so it wasn't the most comforting way he could've put things, but this was Sam: she would appreciate the bluntness.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "_Excuse_ me?" she asked, her tone half dangerous and half not understanding.

"Well, first off, you are _not_ a screw-up," he added, trying to explain his reaction. "You may not have the best grades, or the best... uh, attitude." Hey, he was trying to be honest here, right? "But you are the most driven person I know, if you put your mind to it. You'll make your own way, even if you have to punch your way through every obstacle. And that's an amazing thing," he added. Normally it wouldn't sound like a compliment, but he made sure his smile told her that's how he meant it.

"And second," he continued, seeing that she was at least being receptive. She might kick him right after he was done, but at least she would listen. "Do you really think we're going to just give up on you like that? We're your friends. That doesn't go away just 'cause of one, measly almost-arrest."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you listening to yourself, or is it just 'wah wah wah' to your ears?" she wondered, using that Peanuts' teacher tone, which almost made him laugh.

"Unfortunately, yes, I am," he admitted, sheepishly. "And it's not that I'm saying almost getting arrested is a good thing- in fact, if you ever pull another crazy stunt like that again, I might just _kill _you-" He added a glare, though it was nowhere near effective as hers, given how many times a day he shot it her way. "But you're my friend. That's all that matters."

She was silent for almost a full minute, as if she was debating how to feel about his words (he thought that was great, at least she hadn't slugged him right away, that was always a good sign). But then, she snorted. "Right... we can _barely _be called friends, Fredbutt." She seemed reluctant to accept his acceptance on the matter. That was the thing with Sam, she was too stubborn, all the time.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Seriously, Sam? Do you really think I would be here right now, risking life and limb to your wrath if I didn't care about you?" There was a pause, and he wondered if he'd said too much. He certainly hadn't meant to phrase in quite those words, it was just the way things came out. Great, now she was going to get all awkward again.

Amazingly, she didn't. She chuckled instead. "Fine, whatever," she shrugged off his last comment like he'd just commented on the weather. He would've expected some teasing for his slip-up, but it seemed she wasn't in the mood for that. After the mirth died, however, she shrugged. "Still, I can't really blame the guy. If I were him, I'd also be worried about Carly hanging out with someone like me." She frowned. "In fact, I'm kind of amazed your crazy mother _hasn't _tried something like that yet."

"That's..." He frowned. "That's a good question, actually." Why _had_ his mother never forbidden him from hanging out with Sam? She obviously didn't like the blonde (and the feeling was most certainly reciprocated), and she freaked out whenever he showed up angry, physically hurt or otherwise bothered after an encounter with Sam, but she'd never made any attempt to stop their friendship. "I mean, she did see you _push me off a plane_ and all..." he added, contemplative. Sam burst out in chuckles, like she was remembering good times. He glared at her again; just because he thought of her as a friend, didn't mean he was going to take the abuse in stride. "It's not funny."

"No, it really was funny," she retorted, her chuckles turning into full-blown laughter at his annoyed expression.

He held it. "Fine, be that way." He crossed his arms. "And to think here I was going to treat you to a late lunch," he added. Because the best way to get on Sam's good side was to always have food handy. Like dangling a steak in front of a particularly hungry dog.

From the way her laughter stopped immediately, he knew he'd said the magic word. "Late lunch? Like, say, at the Meat Locker, for example?" she suggested, ever-so-helpfully.

He'd been expecting that. "If you admit I'm your friend, we'll make it the all you can eat buffet," he added, using that same taunting tone he'd used before. Make that dangling a steak in front of an _always _hungry meat lover.

She paused, hesitant. She bit her lip. Like she was _actually_ conflicted about it! She was unbelievable. Finally, she snapped. "Fine, you'reoneofmybestfriends, now _move_ it, Fredward! The dinner crowd will start getting there soon and we do _not_ want to be caught in line!" She quickly got off the brick wall and took off in the direction said restaurant was located. She didn't even bother waiting for him- and he was _paying_.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Pushing himself down until he stood on grassy ground, he picked up both his and her backpack (it was very lightweight- apparently no bolt cutters in there that day, thank goodness), and followed the trail of hurricane Sam.

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"So, how was school today?"

Carly didn't even look up from the chicken and salad she was dejectedly pushing around on the plate. "Horrible," she started. "My best friend refuses to speak to me because my tyrant of a father thinks she's a criminal." She said all this in a tone so bland, she may as well have been commenting on the weather.

Col. Shay didn't even flinch; that was the exact same response Carly had given to that question for the last three days. "I'm sorry things have to be this way," he, too, replied as he always did. He took a bite of his food to his mouth. Spencer flinched where neither of the other two would.

That prompted a reaction out of her, however. "You always _say_ you are, but you don't change anything!" She put down her fork and threw her father a hard stare. "You know what she said today? She said she wasn't going to speak to me, because she doesn't want me to have to choose between her and you." She shook her head. "She knows how much I love you, and she doesn't want to put me in that position."

The older man swallowed the last bite of chicken and still paused, staring at his daughter. He seemed much more like a Colonel than a Dad at that point. "Have you been talking to her at school?" he questioned, grave.

Carly sighed. "No. I overheard her and Freddie talking," she admitted. Freddie had done as he'd promised and was now spending all his time with Sam, which she was grateful for. Really, she was. But it also made her feel really lonely. She had to hang out with Wendy at school all day and while Wendy was really nice, it just wasn't the same.

He nodded, then paused again. "Well, that's... very mature of her," he added cautiously, although both siblings could catch a hint of something in his tone. Perhaps a glimmer of respect for the blonde girl he maintained was such a bad influence on his daughter.

Carly and Spencer exchanged glances. "She's doing it because she's a good person and she cares about me," Carly added, her tone straight and unwavering.

She was looking down at the table so she didn't see her father move, but she heard the clink of silverware against ceramic as he got up and headed to the sink to wash his plate. She quickly leaned in to talk to Spencer. "Do you think he's cracking?" she asked, in an urgent whisper.

Spencer looked doubtful. "Eh. Maybe. I wouldn't get my hopes up yet, though," he admitted. Carly rolled her eyes at the fact that _he_, of all people, was the one being cautious now. "Hey," he poked at her hand, which was stretched in front of her, with a finger. "Did Sam really say that?"

Carly sighed, looking sad, and nodded. Spencer sighed as well. "Well, then, you need to talk to her, kiddo. If she won't talk to you at school, just call her. You still have my cell phone, right?" Their father had taken Carly's PearPhone away as punishment for their hijinks on "Doom Friday," so Spencer had secretly given her his phone so she could try and contact her friends.

She nodded. "Yeah. I've been calling her, but she doesn't pick up. She knows it's me." She felt completely deflated. "I must've left like fifty messages on her voice mail. She just doesn't want to hear from me at all," she finished with a dejected shrug.

"So, keep trying," he let her know in that certain, everything's-going-to-be-alright, _Spencer_ way of his. He was no Sam or Freddie, but Carly would always be glad to have her brother by her side. He could make everything better, and if for some reason that wasn't possible, he was still going to try. He grabbed a hold of her hand and she smiled at him, although the gesture didn't quite reach her eyes yet. And it wouldn't, until she could be with her best friends again.

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Thursday came, and no iCarly came with it.

They hadn't seen hair nor hide of Sam all day. She hadn't been at school, although she had responded to one of the millions of texts Freddie had sent her, letting him know that no, she hadn't fallen off the face of the Earth, she just wasn't feeling well. So he hung out with Carly instead, which would've been a relief for both of them, if only they hadn't spent most of the day in complete silence.

That night, Carly went up to their studio, let herself fall on one of the bean bags, and cried. Freddie stayed up until very late updating the website with a note that let their visitors know they were having... technical difficulties at the moment, but the web show would be back soon. _Very_ soon.

He still sat there, grimly staring at the picture of the three of them on the main page of the site, when a knock on the frame of his door startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a familiar blonde standing there. "Sam? How-"

"Picked the lock," she let him know with a shrug, before he could even ask the question. She took a tentative step in. "So, Mom's getting it on with her latest boyfriend, and I have nowhere else to go," she stated, looking at him with what seemed to be a bored expression, but underneath he knew she was expectant.

The _"because I can't take refuge at Carly's anymore"_ that was left unsaid still carried weight, and he found himself nodding. "Sure. You take the bed. I'll get an inflatable mattress or something." She moved toward his bed and paused. He expected her to make some snide comment about his Galaxy Wars sheets, but she seemed to think better of it, for she just dropped her bag at the foot of the bed and sat down, starting to take off her sneakers.

He stood up and away from his desk, in the direction of his closet, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake his mother up. Sometimes he thought she had bionic ears or something. "I'll be out of here before your Mom wakes up," Sam let him know as he pulled out a bright blue plastic mattress out of the closet. She was sitting on his bed by now, wrapping herself up with his covers, and if both of them hadn't been feeling so down, he might've thought that the weirdest _and _the most amazing sight he'd seen in his life so far.

He nodded and silently closed his bedroom door.

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Intellectually speaking, Sam knew she couldn't be completely detached from people forever. She'd rather be alone than with someone stupid or someone who didn't get her, but pushing everybody away had the unfortunate side effect that one got lonely sometimes. People weren't meant to be alone, no matter how much more sense it made.

That's why, when Carly Shay entered her life, being her sweet, friendly, understanding and non-judgmental self, and apparently enjoyed being around Sam despite all her... let's call them quirks, Sam immediately latched onto her like a lifeline. Carly was the first person for whom Sam would even consider letting down her personal barriers. She made everything easy. She taught her what true friendship meant, and what affection felt like.

Through Carly, she'd come to meet all the people she truly cared about. Her true family, so to speak- and that was not a distinction that she made lightly. Spencer, he was like an older brother to Sam, and someone she knew she could always come to if she needed help. Gibby, who might be the weirdest son of a gun she had ever met, but he definitely made life interesting and was always there with some random comment at the most appropriate time. And then there was Freddie, whom she had initially pushed away like everybody else, but the damn nub had wormed his way into her heart without her even realizing it. At this point, he was as much a part of her as Carly was, yet in a completely different manner. She didn't much like to dwell on what her and Freddie _were_, she was much more content to just let things happen as they came, but she knew their relationship was different. Dysfunctional different, but good nonetheless.

Yet Sam knew, she just _knew_, she would never find someone she felt as close to as she did Carly.

With a sigh, she wrapped Freddie's blankets tighter around herself. She could hear Freddie tossing and turning on the floor, and she knew she wasn't the only one who couldn't get to sleep. She hated this. She didn't know how to be herself without Carly, and it was driving her crazy. She knew it was selfish, but she didn't want to feel this way anymore.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of her cell phone, which she had laid down by Freddie's night lamp (_reading light_, he made sure to remind her), which let her know she had a text message. She stretched and picked it up, noticing Spencer's number in the caller ID. She knew who this text was coming from. _I'm so sorry_, it read, and Sam felt her heart constrict. She stared at the three words for what felt like forever.

_its ok._

She heard shuffling and looked to one side to see Freddie sitting up on his mattress. His hair was all over he place. It was kind of adorable, really... which is what she really meant when she told him he was rocking the troll look. He glared at her for a moment, but then, more softly, he asked: "Everything alright?"

She took one look down at her phone's screen and then up at him, a smile almost threatening to break at the corners of her mouth. "I guess it will be," she told him with a shrug.

He smiled at her. She flipped her phone closed and they went back to sleep. Morning would come bright and early for both teens, especially if Marissa Benson had anything to say about it.

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The first time Carly and Sam talked to each other after the police station incident was that Friday, and there really wasn't much talking involved. More like a lot of hugging, crying, apologizing, babbling and squealing. Carly and Freddie had been waiting by the school's entrance when Sam came in, and the taller girl latched onto the blonde's arm and did not let go until the bell rang at 3 pm. The three drove back to Bushwell together and all was well and good until it was time to split up, Carly going into her apartment while Freddie and Sam headed for the Bensons'.

It wasn't perfect, but it was much better.

Carly didn't exactly tell her father she was talking to Sam while in school; however, she didn't feel guilty because she could tell he knew. Her dad was a smart man. She was a lot happier those days, surely he noticed the difference. And sometimes she caught him staring at her, deep in thought. He hadn't given her the PearPhone back even though the two initial weeks of punishment were over by then, and a few days later he told her from now he would be needing the car in the afternoons so he would be picking her up from school (Spencer driving, as he still wasn't out of his cast) instead of her driving home.

One day about a month down the road, her Dad was waiting for her as the students filed out of the school. He saw her come up with the two of them, but made no comment; he only nodded at them, as a greeting, in a polite manner. He put his arm around Carly and led her out of the building. She waved back at them sadly, and it all reeked of sappy teen movie, but that was the way things were in her life now.

They spent a lot of time thinking of how to work things out with her father. They'd gone through everything, from baking him a cake to hiring one of Sam's relatives to "kidnap" Carly so her Dad would break (Sam's idea, which made Carly glare at her and insist it _would not help her situation at all_ if her Dad ever found out, and which Freddie insisted was a rip-off, because really, if this guy was a relative of hers, shouldn't he do it for free? Carly glared at him, too). So far, though, they hadn't come up with anything they really thought could work. Still, it was okay, because they always had their best ideas when they were together, whether it was brainstorming for iCarly, or plotting revenge against snobby pet photographers. They were just better together, and that was it.

In the end, they decided it would probably be better to just wait it out. Carly would be 18 in the summer, and then her father wouldn't be able to tell her what to do or who to hang out with. Things would get better once they left for college, too. They just had to say positive for now- at least they had school to look forward to.

(Sam laughed every time someone mentioned this. The irony was just too great).

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Whenever it was Carly's turn to buy groceries, she would take a detour to this little authentic Japanese store on the outskirts of town so she could buy some extra goodies. They sold all kinds of cool ingredients that you couldn't find anywhere else in Seattle, and she did love ethnic food after all. They had the best panko. Carly loved panko. It was good panko.

Unfortunately for her, she had taken a little bit too long at the grocery store this time, and now it was almost sundown. And of course, this being Seattle, it was raining cats and dogs, at least as far as she could see. She was driving slowly and surely, but there was zero visibility out there, so when she heard something blow up and her car started rocking as it moved forward, she couldn't help the "Oh, poodle," that escaped her lips. She carefully took to the road shoulder and parked, taking a few deep breaths before going out in the rain to check how bad the damage was.

And it was bad. She cringed as she crouched beside the car. She couldn't see what had caused the damage with the rain pelting her face so hard, but the left rear tire was pretty much destroyed, a big, gaping gash right down the length of the rubber. And she could never change the tire on her own- Spencer had taught her how to do it when she first got her driver's permit, but there was no way she could do it in this weather.

She stood up and looked around, hoping there was at least a gas station nearby, but no such luck. The place was pretty much deserted, and it was starting to get dark. She also had no means of letting her family or friends know what happened, or even call a tow-car- no phone, and, sadly, their car was from the pre-GPS era. What could she do?

She decided for the moment the best thing to do would be to wait until someone passed by and could help her. There was no way she was going to walk down the road to see if she could find civilization. No, no. She knew how that went in horror movies, and she was too much of a Sarah Michelle Gellar fan to put herself in that position. So she went back to the driver's seat, plopped down with a loud splat (oh man... she was going to ruin the car seats! Not to mention her pants- and why on Earth had she preferred wanting to look _cute_ over the practicality of a hoodie?), and closed the door. She locked it, too. No need to take chances.

She sighed to keep herself calm, turned on the heating and tuned the radio to an upbeat song, which she hoped would help her relax. She could feel the fear starting to creep up on her, and she did not need to start freaking out now. That would be the worst thing.

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Freddie insisted one of these days they should do something _he_ liked instead. Sam insisted she didn't have to hang out with him anyway so as far as she was concerned, she was boss. So Freddie insisted she was the most selfish and ungrateful person in the entire world. And then Sam insisted on kicking him every time he opened his mouth.

Even so, that Saturday night found them at a small arcade about four blocks away from Bushwell, which looked and felt like it had stood there unchanged since the 70's. It probably had been, too. All in all it was a nice compromise: he liked video games (he was more of an MMORPG type of guy, but this wasn't bad), and Sam liked spending his money and utterly creaming him in every game known to man, so it was win-win. Well, sort of.

"No, NO!" Freddie groaned as his Attack Cruiser was blown to bits by Sam's Celestial Destroyer. "She shouldn't be able to do that!" he said, slack-jawed, pointing at the screen, which was now reading "MAY THE FLUX BE WITH YOU, PLAYER 1" in block letters, adding to his dismay. "She _shouldn't be able to do that!_" He turned to some younger kid with glasses and buck teeth that was standing behind him. "Celestial Destroyers don't have neutron-heat seeking channels!"

The kid pushed up his glasses and shrugged. "Looks like she found the bug, man."

Freddie raised both hands to the boys' shoulders. "Bug? What bug?" he asked, now bordering on desperate. It was thoroughly humiliating that Sam would beat him even in a _Galaxy Wars _game. Such a travesty should not be allowed by the universe. Did no one up there have any respect for him, really?

Sam was still jumping around and gloating. "HAHA! Suck on _that_, Fredlame!" She paused in her jumping to point at him and rub it in a little harder. That's when she noticed Freddie practically glomping some nerdy little kid. "Who the heck are you?" she asked the boy in her usual rude manner, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. And then she noticed the crowd that had gathered around them. "What, you people got nothing better to do with your lives? SCRAM!" She gave them the universal "go away" sign with her hands. Angry Sam was, as always, quite a sight to behold and everybody immediately responded, going back to whatever they were doing before the twosome had started their intergalactic battle. Some of the younger kids might've wet their pants, Freddie suspected.

She turned to him, still fuming, and if he hadn't been used to being her punching bag for the last, oh, four or so years, he might've hightailed it out of there, too. "Geez, what is _wrong_ with these people?" she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Freddie shrugged, still a little sore that she'd beaten him in the one game he was supposed to be more knowledgeable about. "Well, it makes sense. I figure it's strange enough for a girl to come in here, let alone a hot girl who knows how to play," he commented. Part of him was aware he'd just called her hot, but it wasn't like she didn't know he thought she was pretty. Of course she knew, but they both knew it wasn't a big deal. They were friends. That sort of thing was normal between friends.

She smirked. "Kinda like your bedroom, huh?" Obviously, she would take any jab at him when the opportunity presented itself.

He glared at her. "You've _been _in my bedroom," he blurted out, raising one eyebrow in defiance.

She flicked him on the forehead. "Stop doing the funky eyebrow thing. What, you want someone to congratulate you for that? Nobody's listening anymore." She gestured to the crowd no longer standing around them, and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Now come on, I wanna get out of here before I catch their nerd-germs." She pulled him by his sleeve. He was rubbing at his now red forehead as they made their way out of the arcade.

It was already past 7 pm by then. Sam spotted a guy selling corn dogs in a corner and conned Freddie out of the necessary money to get herself one, plus a soda. She tried to get him to buy one for himself (likely so she could snatch it from him and eat it, too), but he just got a water instead; he couldn't eat anything at this hour, his mother would kill him if he ruined his appetite.

She happily chomped on the fried concoction as they walked down the walkway. "Man, it's times like these I wish Carly wasn't grounded," she commented, her mouth full of dough and meat. "Spending a Saturday afternoon in nerd-land with _you _isn't exactly my idea of a fun time."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Gee, thanks, Sam. I can't imagine why anyone would think you're a jerk," he quipped.

"I know, right?" she replied straight away, completely ignoring the fact that he was obviously being sarcastic.

Not that her taking his words in however way was most convenient to her was something _surprising_, but he wasn't expecting her to play it that way; not after everything that had gone down with Carly's dad. "Seriously?" he asked her, curious. "Last thing I heard, you were actually concerned hanging out with you might be bad for us in the long run," he reminded her.

She shrugged, almost nonchalant. "I know. Eh, I still kind of am, but I've been talking to Carly about this and..." She took one last big bite of her corn dog before she continued speaking. "I mean, really, I'm just a girl, here. What have I really done that is so bad?" she asked, her voice muffled by the mouthful of food she was currently chewing on.

He snorted. "Would you like me to make you a _list_?"

She directed a slap to the back of his head. "Shut it." She swallowed, then took a drink of her coke. "What I'm saying is..." she started, then paused, as if she was thinking of the right way to put it- which was an odd thing for Sam; must mean she was really worried about this issue. "I mean, just because I have issues, and a bad attitude and... you know, a police record, doesn't mean I'm a horrible person!"

To be honest, he'd thought about this topic, too. A lot. Anyone looking at them from the outside would think he'd be more than happy to get away from Sam the moment the opportunity presented itself- he _knew_ her, and her bad habits, and her horrible family (boy, were _they_ a mess!), and he didn't _have _to put up with her abuse or her disrespect if he didn't want to. Yet, he still stuck around. That was friendship, he guessed, although he didn't know how that even worked when it came to Sam. All he knew was that despite her bad side (which was quite sizable, of course), there was something about her that made it hard to let go. It was ironic, but somewhere along the way he'd begun to actually enjoy being around her, despite the fact that his brain kept insisting that was a baaaaad idea.

He knew feeding her ego would only come back later on to bite him in the behind, but he figured it might make her feel better to know, and it seemed like the right moment to tell her. "You're not a horrible person," he said. And that was the extent he had _meant_ to take it to, only his mouth ran off while leaving him behind. "Actually, I think you're very... lovable," he finished. He hadn't meant to use that word. Heck, he hadn't even been _thinking _of that word at all. He had no idea why he'd said it.

Luckily, he didn't even need to freak out about it, as she responded immediately, not giving his particular choice of words any importance. "That's what I keep telling people!" she exclaimed, waving her arms around. "But do they listen? Nooooo." She shook her head.

He chuckled. "Right. Why would anybody miss something so obvious?" he asked, amused at her gall.

She hit him in the arm. "Shut up." She pointed at him with the now devoid-of-food stick of her corn dog. "_You_ think I'm lovable," she teased him, in a sing-songy voice, and really, he should have _known _she wouldn't let that opportunity go so easily. Urgh.

He didn't know if he was blushing... but yeah, he probably was. Damn this girl, making him say things without thinking! "Well, you know-" He cleared his throat. "It's- a perfectly applicable word in this context, as in, you know, someone you can lo-" He caught what he was going to say a split second before he said it, and switched gears. "-You know, just... lovable," he finished in a mumble.

She was smirking at him. God, she was smirking. He was doomed. "You're so lame, Frederica," she commented with a shake of her head, and with that she hurried her pace toward Bushwell.

Freddie groaned, but followed, now completely convinced this would be his last night alive.

When they finally got to the building, it was the point where each went their own way: Freddie up to 8D, and Sam down the road to take a bus home. He turned to her, hands in his pockets, and tried not to sound horribly awkward. "So... you wanna hang out tomorrow?"

She thought about it for a second, then shrugged. "Nah, I'm good. Don't want a repeat of Nerdgate," she let him know.

He groaned again. Was she ever going to let that go? "You know, it was funny the first few times, but now the joke has just gotten old," he narrowed his eyes at her, somewhat hurt. He didn't know if it was because she kept insisting he was a nerd, or because of her reaction to what he'd almost blurted out a few minutes ago- which he didn't even want to _think_ about but really, she could've at least pretended to care- but now he was just irked with her. "I must've had temporary amnesia when I said she was lovable," he muttered.

He had already turned toward the doors when she spoke again. "Oh, so you didn't, uh, mean it, then?" Her tone was... odd. Too hesitant, for Sam standards. It made him turn back to look at her and there she was, her eyes anywhere but on him as she very slightly shifted her position.

Her expression made him pause. Was this the reaction he'd wanted from her to begin with? "Does it... matter?" he asked, expectant and, frankly, a little anxious now. What else could he say? Did he mean it- of course he didn't, he hadn't even meant to say the word in the first place, it just slipped out. But on the other hand, he did mean it. He knew he did. But what did that mean to her?

To his dismay, however, her expression went steely. "No, it really doesn't." She spun on her heel and started walking in the direction of the bus station.

Freddie was startled. Obviously he'd said the wrong thing, and once again, something in him just couldn't let her go like that. "No, Sam, come on!" He ran to catch up to her, blocking her way before she could cross the street. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

She glared at him. "Your entire _existence _is wrong, Benson."

She tried to push him to the side so she could pass but he wouldn't budge. "Sam, what is it?" he asked. Gosh, couldn't she just be straight with him for once? He was so sick of this little game they'd been playing for so long. He tried to stop her by putting his hands on her shoulders- she might just snap them off his torso, but he had to try.

She immediately took a step back, like she'd been burned by hot coals. "Get off, you're gonna make me miss my bus-"

"No! Sam..." He shook his head, hands falling down to his sides. "Listen... we had fun today, didn't we?" His tone was a lot softer, and he could see her backing down- just a little. She dodged his eyes once again. "We've... we've been having fun these past few weeks, right? I... I _like _that," he admitted, sincerely. "Don't let it end on a bad note." He paused, taking a breath, and he saw her look up at him for just one second. They were... they were standing really close to each other, weren't they? "Please."

He tried to catch her eyes with his, and when finally brown met blue, there was a heavy pause as they gazed at each other. But before he could think to say anything, she put a hand on the side of his neck and kissed him.

He would've been more surprised, he figured, if he hadn't been thinking of doing exactly that himself just a second ago. But her lips were soft, and any kind of surprise on his part vanished as she started moving them against his own. He closed his eyes, and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, leaning into her embrace- partly so she wouldn't have to crank her neck up uncomfortably, and partly because he just wanted to get closer to her.

Her fingers tangled into the hair at his nape, and he felt himself breathe out in a sigh. She opened her lips against his and he took the moment to deepen the kiss, trying to get as close as possible. Her long hair was tickling his neck. Her other hand was around his torso, with a tight grip on the back his jacket. He felt like he was being flooded by her, by her presence and her energy, from every side.

He had always known she'd be the death of him. He'd just never thought this would be the way he would go.

When they separated, both breathing heavily, Sam's eyes widened. Like she couldn't understand what she had just done, or maybe she was disgusted by having kissed him, or maybe she thought it was a terrible mistake, and he didn't even know what he was feeling himself, but he knew he didn't want her to feel that way. He was just about to say something, or better yet, just kiss her again, when her loud ring tone went off and made them both jump about ten feet into the air.

She turned her back on him and fished her cell phone out of her pocket. "Yeah?" she said as she put it up to her ear, and he noticed she was still out of breath. Her shirt had ridden up slightly where he'd been holding her waist, and her hair was blowing in the wind. He knew he was just standing there like an idiot, but he couldn't help but notice everything about her now. "No, she's not with us. Why?" She paused as whoever was on the other side of the line explained, and he noticed she suddenly went very still. "Okay, we're on our way."

She flipped her phone closed, put it back in her pocket and turned to him, her expression grave. Before he could even ask, she explained. "That was Spencer. Carly went grocery shopping at around one, and she still hasn't made it back."

He frowned, surprised and somewhat worried. "What? But it's almost eight-"

"Exactly," she interrupted him. "So we're going." She started walking back toward the entrance to Bushwell Plaza, intent on going back to Carly's apartment for the first time in more than a month. Freddie knew that determination- if Carly needed her, she would be there, without a moment's hesitation. No matter what Carly's Dad said.

He followed her, hot on her heels.

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About an hour after she had first wound up stranded in the middle of nowhere, she started thinking of her friends. At least when they got dumped roadside somewhere in Japan, she'd had her best friends with her. Now, she was all alone.

What would Freddie do? Well, he would of course carry on his person about seven different gadgets, and at least one of them would allow him to communicate with civilization and let someone know what had happened. She didn't even have a hair brush in this car, so no luck with that.

What would Sam do? She'd probably wouldn't let the rain faze her and would get out and try to get someone to stop and help her. Carly had seen a few cars pass by but she was too much of a wimp to try and call their attention. You never knew what kind of people you'd find out there. Still, the rain didn't seem to be stopping and thinking of Sam made her feel brave, so she decided to get out there and try to do something for her current dilemma.

Fifteen minutes she stood outside in the rain, trying to get at least one of the cars that passed by to stop, but no such luck there. Not even one hobo had passed by, what with the rain.

Well, that's not true; one person _did_ stop- a greasy college-aged guy who looked her wet form up and down and told her she "was pretty" in the creepiest tone she'd ever heard. She was so freaked out, she just blurted out he should "oh, just _go on_, now!" and ignored all the catcalls he threw her way to seek refuge in the car again. Eventually the dude got bored and continued on his way, but Carly could not feel more dismayed than she did at that point.

Now she sat sideways on the passenger seat, her legs stretched out over the driver's seat, her head leaning against the backrest. She was getting desperate and what's worse, she was starting to feel sick. Oh, why couldn't this horrible day just be over?

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"Are you sure she really went to that grocery shop?" Carly's dad asked. His worry was reflected on his face, and even though he was trying to take this calmly and focus, he was looking much older that day than they'd ever seen him.

Spencer sighed. "Yes, it's the only one she goes to. She likes the decorations," he repeated for the thousandth time. He took a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, and obviously he was going out of his mind with worry. It was almost ten, and there was no sign of his little sister yet.

Freddie was pacing near the door. Sam was sitting on the couch. "Are you _sure _you went down every possible route between here and the grocery shop?" she asked, frowning. Personally, she thought this was all Col. Shay's fault- if Carly had her PearPhone with her, she could've let them know where she was, or they could've tried to locate her somehow. It's not like she could keep Spencer's phone forever! Part of her wanted to yell at him, or shake him, or ask him what the hell he'd been thinking, taking such a vital object away from Carly just so she wouldn't talk to her; however, this wasn't really the time to play the blame game. They just had to think.

Spencer shook his head. "Every route I can think of," he replied, once again something he'd reiterated a number of times over the course of the past few hours.

"The storm's coming in," Freddie muttered, looking out the window. Angry, grey clouds were starting to cover the city- they'd mentioned on the news that it had been raining copiously on the outskirts of town for a while now, and the storm was expected to hit the city as well that night.

His words prompted Spencer to get off his seat. "I'm going to try again," he told them. He picked up his motorcycle keys from the coffee table and grabbed his jacket on his way out the door. They had to find Carly before she got caught up in the storm.

As the door closed behind him, Col. Shay turned to look at the two teens. "I'm going to keep calling hospitals, maybe they'll know something now." None of them had wanted to admit the possibility that Carly may have gotten hurt somehow, but Col. Shay was a practical man and he knew at least this would help them find her, so he'd taken up the task willingly- especially since he couldn't drive. He groaned as he leaned forward to get the phone book from where he'd left it on the floor. "You two, please keep thinking of any other place she might've gone to."

Freddie nodded and Sam leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms. They were silent for a few minutes, deep in thought, the only sound that of Col. Shay browsing through the pages of the leafy book. As he paused to look for one particular number, though, Sam jumped up in her seat, and turned around, one arm over the backrest, to look at her friend. "Freddie. The panko!" she exclaimed, eyes wide.

The young man caught on right away. "Right, the panko!"

Col. Shay eyed them with hope. "What's this about panko?"

"Whenever Carly goes grocery shopping, she likes stopping by a little off-road Japanese store on her way home," Freddie explained eagerly, glad they now had a better idea of where Carly might be. "She loves going there. Says she really loves their panko." He paused, then frowned. "But it should be raining out there. You think she stopped by even with the storm?"

Sam, who was by then scrambling about to put on her jacket, shook her head. "She won't admit it, but she has a _huge_ crush on the guy who mans the register. She would never _not _go," she stated, as sure of this as she was that the sky was blue. She put her left hand inside the sleeve of her jacket, zipped it up, and turned to Freddie, expectant. He was already doing the same.

"Great, then I'll just call Spencer and let him know so he can search that route," Col. Shay said, grabbing the phone with renewed energy. This was as good a lead as they'd gotten, so far.

Sam interrupted his movement with a wave of her hand. "Don't bother. He doesn't know where it is," she stated matter-of-factly, not even bothering to look at the man as she spoke. "We're going. Freddo, we're taking your Mom's car."

"Right," Freddie agreed, and handed Sam her backpack. She shouldered it and they were out the door in a flash. There was not one moment to spare when Carly was out there, probably in trouble.

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By the time they found the Shays' VW bug on the side of the road, it was nearly eleven. Freddie parked his mother's "Soccer Mom Mobile" right behind it, and Sam didn't even wait until it fully stopped to bolt out toward the car, Freddie only pausing to pull his hoodie over his head before running behind her.

"Carly?" She screamed. The sound of the storm and the wind around them would probably make it impossible for Carly to hear her, so she knocked on the window, too. No response. She tried opening the door, but it was locked. Freddie took a moment to notice the flat tire, before coming up to stand beside her. She could barely see Carly's form lying on the passenger seat, through the fogged up window. "Is she asleep?" she asked Freddie, worried.

Freddie took a look, and once again tried knocking on the window. "I think she may be out cold," he replied. Both of them were now really getting anxious. Was she hurt? Why wouldn't she wake up? Had something happened to her? "We should call Spencer, maybe he has an extra key. Or just call 911, they'll probably get here faster," he stated, still trying in vain to get the door to open.

"No need!" Sam exclaimed, and Freddie watched in complete awe as she opened her backpack and pulled out a professional lock pick.

To say he was stunned was an understatement. "Why are you carrying a lock pick in your bag?" he questioned, although he was sure he could probably guess the answer. He pushed some hair out of his face- they were both getting soaked.

"My Mom keeps leaving her keys inside her car," she explained and of course, that's what Freddie had imagined she would say. She worked the lock pick for a few tense moments, until finally the latch on the door was released and they could at last open the door. Sam was crawling to Carly's side within the second. "Carly?" she said, shaking her friend's shoulder lightly, to see if maybe that could wake her up. "Carls?" When that failed, she lightly slapped her cheeks to try and get her to react. She was burning up. "Come on, kid, open your eyes," she muttered. Freddie waited behind her, on pins and needles.

It wasn't until a few slaps later that Carly started to react. "Ngggh. What...?"

"Oh, thank goodness," both Sam and Freddie breathed a sigh of relief as the brunette turned her disoriented brown eyes on them. "Carly, are you okay? What happened?"

"...Sam?" That was the point when the girl finally remembered where she was, and seeing her friends' soaked, but ecstatic expressions broke the dam she'd been holding her fears with. She threw her arms around Sam's neck and hugged her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder. "Sam! Oh Sam, I'm so glad you're here, I was so scared," she babbled, every feeling she'd had bottled up inside during this entire ordeal just flowing out through her tears.

Sam softly rubbed her back, whispering to hear that everything was going to be okay and that they'd got her now. No need to be afraid. "I'm going to call Spencer," Freddie interjected, and moved to the back seat so he could pull out his PearPhone without it fritzing in the torrential rain. He took a moment to pat Carly's head slightly, and Sam looked up from over Carly's shoulder to meet his gaze. They couldn't be more thankful to have their best friend back, safe and sound.

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Next weekend found Sam and Freddie in the waiting room of a smallish Seattle hospital.

After being in the rain for so long, they had taken Carly to the hospital for a check-up, and the doctor had noticed she had started to develop cold symptoms fairly quickly. They had her in for observation- initially for a couple of nights, but then she started developing early signs of pneumonia, so she had to stay a few days longer while they pumped her full of pills and serum.

Fortunately the harshest symptoms started clearing up as expected, and now she was ready to leave, and that's why Freddie and Sam were waiting. Spencer was still in the room with Carly, with their father working out the paperwork they required for her to be discharged. The twosome, however, had nothing better to do than hang around in the waiting room, Sam idly channel surfing on the one crappy TV there was in the room, and Freddie leaning against a wall, working out a Sudoku puzzle.

With everything that happened with Carly, it was fairly easy for them to ignore the elephant in the room. Well, avoid talking about it, at least. Freddie had tried to bring up the topic a few times without much luck; Sam seemed intent on pretending nothing of importance happened. Although apparently the awkwardness wasn't enough to deter them from making out all over the place.

Their second kiss of the week happened right there, in that very couch Sam was currently sitting on. After bringing Carly in, Spencer accompanied her on her check-up and Sam and Freddie had just collapsed in a heap on the couch in the waiting room.

Sam was mostly relieved Carly was okay, but that was around the time where everything that happened during the day caught up with Freddie. His mind flashed back to every disease his mother had taught him about that humans can catch from being outside in the rain for prolonged periods of time, and it really hit him that things could've wound up much, much worse. "She could've died," he muttered, a bit shell-shocked.

Sam turned to him, curious about his sudden gravity. "But she didn't."

"But she _could have_," he reiterated, hundreds of horrible scenarios running through his head in just a few seconds.

Sam stared at him for a couple of heartbeats, then started speaking, cautiously: "Do you... like... need a hug or something? 'Cause I could call Spenc-"

"I don't need a hug," he interrupted her with a shake of his head.

She didn't sound like she believed him, but she didn't press things further. "Alllll-right," she quipped with a slight shrug. She was about to turn back to the television when all of a sudden he cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her.

"...Okay, I'm good," he sentenced, panting, when they pulled back.

"That's... uh, good?" was the only thing she could articulate. Needless to say, she'd been caught by surprise. After that, they both turned back to the TV like the whole thing was just normal, and that's how the nature of their little game was established.

The third kiss happened at school, after Sam stole his jeans while he was at gym and wrote "I'M A LITTLE BUTTERFLY" all over them in indelible ink. He had to walk around in his muddy gym shorts for the rest of the day. When he finally caught up to her to confront her about it, she grabbed him by the front of his polo shirt mid-rant and planted one on him. Afterward, she merrily went on her evil way, probably gloating to herself about her successful prank, while he stood there gaping like a fish. After about a minute, he gathered his wits about him, and stomped behind her, continuing with his rant right from where he'd left off.

The fourth time, they were heading to visit Carly at the hospital and had stopped by the Groovy Smoothie to get her something; apparently, hospital food was very bland, and since she was supposed to take in lots of liquids, they figured they were good with a smoothie. While they were there, they decided to share an order of fries (which, of course, she ate like 90% of). As they were walking out, both drinking smoothies while Sam held Carly's in her left hand, he was suddenly struck with the idea that this all felt very date-like. So he didn't question himself when he felt the urge to lean in and kiss her softly. She tasted like Strawberry Splat. And yes, Carly was very appreciative of their idea to bring her a smoothie.

The fifth kiss involved "peanut butter and _Gibby_ sandwiches," Freddie's Ryan Seacrest impression, and a shovel. They didn't know if they'd be allowed to do iCarly again even when Carly was released from the hospital, but they were hopeful. So she attributed it to a post-brainstorming high, the fact that she walked up to where he was sitting on his desk and kissed him. He pulled her closer until she was sitting on his lap, and as it turns out that wasn't only their fifth kiss that week, but also the sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth...

And of course, there was Friday, as they were walking home from school... well, you get the idea.

Which brought them to the present, the two of them at the waiting room, not speaking. If he had to be honest, he was getting a little antsy. They couldn't keep playing this game forever- as pleasurable as kissing her was, he knew he was starting to feel something more for her than just friendship, and he needed to know where they stood. Did she like him like that, too? Or was she just doing this because she liked kissing in general? Would she have done the same with any other guy? The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. But, Sam being _Sam_, she was, of course, not cooperating.

He sighed as he realized he'd been staring down at the three he'd marked on the lower right-hand corner for the last five minutes. Okay, time to try approach the subject again. "So, we're really never going to talk about this?" he questioned, lowering the Sudoku book from his sight.

"Talk about what?" she muttered as she changed the channel on the TV. She didn't even bother looking his way.

He glared at her (which she didn't notice because her eyes were glued to the television screen) and took a few steps closer, just enough to easily drop the Sudoku puzzles book on the coffee table in front of the couch. "You. And me. And this-" he grasped for the right words, "-kissy ninja thing we've been doing," he finished, crossing his arms. She was still ignoring him. He groaned. "_Sam_..."

Finally she rolled her eyes and deigned him with a response. Not a very good one, though. "Do you always need to _define_ everything? This is good. You're getting some, dude! Normal people would not be complaining, which goes to show you're just weird," she retorted, looking up at him with an annoyed expression, like she had no idea how it was possible for him to want something more than this.

"It's not about the kissing!" he exclaimed, now starting to get incensed. He was half aware they were in a hospital and he probably shouldn't be yelling, but she knew just which buttons to push and he was past keeping himself in check by that point. "It's just- _you_! Pretending this means nothing when you _know _it does-"

"It's called friends with benefits, dork," she interjected, standing up and narrowing her eyes at him. "I know your social life is so lacking you've never even heard of the term, but see, it's what happens when two unattached people hook up to-"

"If you would just admit that you kissed me because you _like_ me," he started again, trying to raise his voice over hers so he wouldn't have to hear her usual absurd arguments, "then I could tell you that I like kissing you because I like _you_, and we could-" He floundered for words, gesticulating with his hands as if he could grasp them from the air. "-I don't even know- it could be _better_!" he finished, breathing hard. He didn't know how she was the only person who could get him this exasperated, but there it was.

His declaration was met with silence. Utter silence. She didn't seem shocked or anything, just stared at him impassively, expression blank, schooled into neutrality. "Um... say something," he urged, awkwardly. He cringed; it was like he had thrust the upper hand straight at her, wrapped in a red, big bow.

He fully expected her to call him some name and make fun of him, but instead what she said was the very random: "I'm bored."

He frowned. "That's it? That's all you have to say about this?"

She scoffed, and started in on him with a "duh" tone. "Yes, Fredfurter, I am boreeeeeedddd," she stretched the word like he was too stupid to comprehend the meaning of it.

He glared at her some more. "Right, so what am I supposed to do about tha-"

Before he could finish the phrase, he found himself getting an armful of Sam. She didn't waste a second in wrapping herself all around him, and he felt her pushing him back, probably so they could rest against the wall, but given that she wasn't looking at where she was going, she missed the mark, and his back ended up against some kind of vending machine, which was warm and shaky, and was making a slight thrumming noise. He could've sworn he even heard a can fall heavily when his back hit the machine, but he really couldn't care less as long as she kept doing that amazing thing she was doing with her tongue, and when she finally got her hands under his shirt he momentarily resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't get an answer yet and at least the kissing was good. Very good.

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Carly was really excited to tell her friends some great news. She would've run, but she was in a hospital and that was not allowed, but she really did feel like running, and jumping and laughing. It was over! This whole ordeal was over and she couldn't wait to tell Freddie and Sam, who were in the waiting room, just...

...Passionately making out against a Wahoo Punch vending machine.

To say that she was stunned would be an understatement. Had she stepped into bizarro world or something? Sam and Freddie did not _make out_, they argued, and insulted each other, and pranked each other, and generally were at odds. This... this was... what was going on here? And oh gosh were Sam's fingers sneaking under the waistband of Freddie's jeans? "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her instinctive response to cover her eyes, as if that could somehow erase what she had just seen.

She heard, more than saw them, spring apart. There was a clang and a rattle as Freddie hit the vending machine again, and he mumbled something which sounded no more intelligible than "oh, um, uh, erm." Sam turned to Carly, only slightly wide-eyed. "Oh, hey, Carls. You all good now?" she asked, amenably. Freddie suddenly realized that his shirt was all out of sorts and turned around so he could more discreetly tuck it back into his pants.

Sam leaned down to pick up that one can of Wahoo Punch like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, like the image of Freddie's hand slipping into the back pocket of Sam's jeans as they kissed wasn't burned onto Carly's retinas forever. She opened it, taking a drink as she looked back at Carly, expecting some kind of answer. The brunette girl finally managed to find her voice. "Well, I thought I was, and the doctor agreed with me, but maybe I should check back in, 'cause I think I just had a mild hallucination...?" she mumbled.

Freddie finally turned around, all presentable now. "Um. We were just..." He still wasn't at his most eloquent, but at least he could form words now.

Sam sighed, exasperated, but still picked up the slack. "Okay, so here's the thing: Freddie and I are together."

"You are?"

"We are?" Carly didn't know who was more shocked, her or Freddie. If she hadn't been so shocked to begin with, she might've found it funny.

Sam's first response was to roll her eyes and slap Freddie on the back of his head. "_Yes_, we _are_," she added, emphatically, like Freddie needed to read her lips in order to grasp the concept of "being together." She took a drink of her punch as Freddie glared at her, then she turned to look at Carly. "Are you going to get all weird about this?" she questioned.

Carly didn't even know where to start feeling weird. This was too big. "I don't..." she stopped and rechecked what she was just about to say. "Just- how long has this been going on? And why didn't you _tell_ me?" She had started out the sentence sounding a little confused, but by that last question she was demanding. She did _not _like her friends hiding things from her.

"It's only been like a week," Freddie finally managed to intervene in a helpful fashion. "And as for how, well, we've been spending so much time together, I guess things just... sort of happened..."

"Geez, Freddie, when I asked you to make sure Sam was okay, I didn't mean her _tonsils_!" Carly exclaimed, still dumbfounded at the idea that her two best friends, who were usually sniping at each other every hour of every day, were now dating. _Dating_, for crying out loud.

Sam crossed her arms, turned to Freddie and lifted an eerily interested eyebrow. "Oh? So you only started hanging out with me because _Carly _asked you to, huh..." she trailed off, and somehow, that made her words sound like a threat.

Freddie gulped, obviously feeling uncomfortable about the twist the conversation had taken. "Uh, it's not-" he said, looking in Carly's direction. Then he turned to Sam. "That wasn't-" He turned to Carly again. "I didn't-" He turned to Sam again, and cringed. "Oh, where are Spencer and his banjo when you need them?" he muttered under his breath.

"I don't know, you guys. I just..." Carly trailed off, then went and let herself fall on the couch Sam had been sitting on. "I still can't process this. It's so... weird."

"Don't fret about it, Shay," Sam said, coming up to sit beside her best friend. "We'll take it one day at a time, alright?" she put a hand on Carly's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Carly smiled. "You guys really care about each other?" She had to ask. She knew, of course, that they cared for each other, at least as friends. But she had to make sure. Both nodded (well, in Sam's case it was more like a shrug-type movement, but Carly took that as a yes), and she was satisfied with that. "Well, then I don't mind taking this one day at a time," she concluded. Sam threw an arm around her shoulders and chuckled.

"So, why were you looking for us?" the blonde asked, now that the most pressing topic was out of the way.

"Oh! Right," Carly remembered what she had been so excited about. "Dad lifted my punishment! I can have my phone back, and we can do iCarly, and most importantly I can hang out with you, Sam, whenever I want!" she let them know. She was glowing, she was so happy.

"That's awesome!" Sam threw her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly. When they separated, Freddie stepped in to high five them both.

That was the moment Spencer poked his head into the waiting room. "Hey, hey! What are we celebratin'?" he asked them, with a smile. Carly explained that their Dad had lifted her punishment, and Spencer nodded. "Well, that's a great reason to celebrate, I must say." He walked up to them with his hand held up, and all three laughed and high-fived him as well.

"Well, it seems we're all in good spirits, now," came Col. Shay's voice from the door. He'd just finished signing all that was required for him to sign. "Are we ready to go, then?"

Spencer nodded, and told them he'd be going to get the car out of the parking lot, and would wait for the both of them outside. Carly sighed as he ran out of the room (he had no such regard for hospital etiquette as the rest of the family did, and she thought she heard one of the nurses scold him as he passed) but otherwise remained holding onto Sam's arm. "I'm so glad I can get out of here. All this whiteness gives me the creeps. It's unnatural." She added a mock shudder to the end of that sentence, and Sam chuckled.

The conversation turned to some good-natured teasing about transportation, namely who got to ride back to Bushwell with whom: Freddie was driving his Mom's car and Carly had wanted Sam to come back with them in the "Shaymobile," but of course she wouldn't now, 'cause she'd want to be with her boooooyfriend- to which Sam responded with a playful shove, while Freddie tinkered with his PearPhone so as not to get involved (he was sure Sam would find a way to blame him for... something, whatever). "So, we should probably head out, Spencer ought to be outside by now," Carly reminded her father, as she stood up. Col. Shay agreed. Her two friends stood up as well, Freddie checking in his wallet for his parking ticket.

"Yeah, we'll see you at your place," Sam let her know, signaling between her and Freddie. Then she seemed to remember she couldn't just walk in to Carly's house like she used to. "...If that's okay, I mean," she added, turning to Col. Shay, a question in her eyes.

"That's alright," Col. Shay replied as Carly moved to stand beside him. He paused for a couple seconds, then started speaking again. "Actually, Sam, I'd like a word with you," he began. Carly switched her gaze from her best friend to her father and back again, somewhat apprehensive. The three of them waited for him to continue. "I wanted to thank you," he finally said, and Carly breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't been there to help us look for Carly. I owe you more than you will ever know," he said, sincere, moving to wrap an arm around his daughter's shoulders.

Sam smiled, with a shrug. "Ah, it was nothing. She would've been fine, anyway. She's tough," she said, affectionately nudging her best friend with her sneaker-clad foot. "Just a little channeling SMG and she'd be kickin' her way back home in no time!" Carly smiled back at her.

"No, don't say it's nothing," Col. Shay intervened again. "It was a big deal. I'm very sorry that I thought the worst of you, Sam," he added, in a regretful tone. He obviously knew how much his decision had hurt both girls, and was trying to make right as best as he could. Carly really appreciated it.

Sam shook her head. "It's okay. You only wanted the best for Carlotta here, so I can't be mad about that," she stated, and Carly could see she really meant it.

"Yes, it's obvious you care about Carly very much," the man admitted, with a nod.

"Sam knows me better than anyone in the world, Dad," said Carly, cuddling up to her father's side with an arm around his waist. This was a happy moment. She was so happy.

"That she does," Carly's Dad nodded, now looking at the blonde with warm eyes.

Sam shrugged again. Carly thought she looked a little uncomfortable in the spotlight- she'd never exactly been the one to get showered with compliments, so the seriousness of the conversation was a little awkward for her, she knew. "She's my best friend," she stated, simply enough. Carly felt she was about to tear up, herself.

"And I know now that I could never find a better friend for my daughter," he affirmed, giving Carly's shoulders a squeeze. "Although," he just had to add, "I recommend not carrying bolt cutters around in your backpack. It leaves room for... misinterpretation," he concluded, half-joking.

"I... _promise _I'll try my best not to get Carly into trouble from now on," Sam sheepishly let out. They were all in agreement that the whole pet-shop-and-bolt-cutters incident was best put behind and counted only as a lesson learned. "What about lock picks, though?" Ah, Sam would be Sam.

Col. Shay didn't even pretend to think about it. "Illegal."

"Dammit!" Sam uttered under her breath. Carly blinked. Freddie chuckled.

"Hey, maybe now that she's with Freddie, he'll be able to keep her in check a little better," Carly suggested, trying to find the good side of this new-found relationship, although perhaps she was being a little too optimistic, as usual. It was one of her cute character flaws.

Freddie and Sam thought that was far-fetched, at least. They both snorted in unison. "Yeah, that'll happen." The simultaneous quip was punctuated by Sam turning around and flicking him on the forehead for daring to speak at the same time as her. He rolled her eyes and tugged at a lock of her hair, not hard enough to hurt but noticeably enough that she tried to swat his hand away. Carly shook her head with a sigh, resigned to her fate as a third-party observer of their now-upgraded relationship.

"Right, so we should be heading home now..." Col. Shay's words were interrupted by a loud siren-type sound that reverberated throughout the waiting room and the entire hospital. "...Is that the fire alarm?" he questioned out loud.

Carly facepalmed. "Oh, Spencer." Well, at least they were at a hospital- medical personnel at the ready all around them! So that was convenient.

With that comforting (...not!) thought, the four calmly and orderly headed toward the nearest emergency exit.

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Thursday came and they were all so excited that they got to do iCarly again, the show itself passed by almost in a blur.

Now the three of them were hanging out on Carly's living room, just waiting until the high passed. Gibby left early; he got a call from his mother telling him to pick Guppy up at Sir Squirts-a-lot's Pizza Grove. Apparently the kid kept taking his shirt off every time someone said "Happy Birthday"- which, considering he was at a birthday party, happened a _lot_. Needless to say, the birthday boy's mother no longer found it cute.

Sam was the first to comment on how hilarious it was that the little rascal had picked up the slack left by his older brother after maturity came a-knockin'. Carly and Freddie agreed. And then Sam mentioned that they probably should've included Sir Squirts-a-lot's on their list of worst shop names. Because, seriously, who gives a pizza place for little kids such a... _questionable_ moniker and then insists is named after a _turtle_? Hey, maybe they should do a sequel, this time with the worst mascots ever. The other two took note of that idea for future reference.

They'd gotten so many comments for their latest installment in so little time, Freddie was actually worried their site might crash. They'd rushed downstairs to start replying to their audience, which was what Freddie was still working on, from the Shays' computer on the kitchen counter. Sam sat on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table as she happily munched on some cheese puffs. Carly lay along the length of the couch, head resting on Sam's lap comfortably, not bothering to get up even though she kept complaining about the blonde getting crumbs all over her.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, for the seventh time turning slightly to the side so parts of whatever she took to her mouth wouldn't end up on her friend's dark locks. She still hadn't found the right angle. When she mentioned this out loud, Carly teased her that her being with Freddie was turning her into quite the nerd, too. All this talk of angles and such. Her mock-pained groan and "don't even _say_ that!" exclamation made Carly laugh.

For a while they were silent, the only sounds permeating the room those of Sam's munching and Freddie's typing. Then Carly broke it with a sigh, looking at nowhere in particular, just in the direction of the ceiling. "...Guys?"

Sam hmm-ed to let her know she was listening. Freddie threw back a "yeah?" without turning around. Carly paused. "I love you. Both of you. So much."

She turned her eyes to Sam and saw that she was smiling down at her. She couldn't see Freddie from this angle, but she saw Sam turn to look in his direction for a second and knew he must have been giving them a similar expression, as well. "Right back at'cha, Shay," Sam told her with a grin, running her fingers slightly through Carly's hair- though she said she was just getting pieces of cheese puff out. Carly laughed and, pulling the bag from Sam's hand so she could reach inside, happily munched on a cheese puff as well.

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**Author's notes!-**

So, sososo sorry about the ridiculous length of this thing. I honestly could not find a good place to break it into two chapters. I'M SO SORRY! ;_;

Before I say anything else, I want to thank Veronica (aka mirage888) for helping me come up with the title! Without her, you would've been subjected to yet another "untitled" and I probably would've died of pure woe at my utter inability to come up with decent titles. So, thanks so much, girl! =)

Uh, some random notes:

-I can never figure out the US school system. Some days I think I do, but then when I write something else, it turns out I really don't. Wikipedia tells me kids in the US are 17-18 in their senior year, so I went with that. Carly, being the youngest of the three and having a birthday in the summer, would still be underage by the time this happens. If that's wrong, then sorry- it was kinda necessary for the story, though, so I can't really go back and change it.

-It's a freakin' window seat! But there's no window! What the heck do you _call_ that thing? Dx

-I actually had to stop and think of how many flights of stairs there are between the eighth floor and the main level. Floor numbering is different in my country than it is in the US.

-Funnily enough, I had the "not for me, for _her_" scene written before iOMG. After the episode aired and I saw Carly use the "for Sam" line on Freddie, I thought about scrapping that part, but then decided to just leave it. I had everything up to the first kiss scene written before iOMG- the episode definitely altered the course of this fic from that point on. Maybe that's why the second half is way fluffier. xD

-Sam making out with Freddie because she's bored is a little homage to my favorite work of fiction ever: Neon Genesis Evangelion. I can see a lot of Shinji and Asuka in Freddie and Sam- albeit a lot less messed up, thank goodness- so I thought it fitting.

-And something else about that: Making out against the Wahoo punch machine is a shout out to the folks over at the Bickering Sidekicks forum. When we were speculating about iOMG, many of us expressed that we would like for Dan to cut the drama and just have Freddie and Sam make out against the Wahoo Punch machine in the study lounge. Didn't happen in the episode, so I thought I might as well add it here... albeit it's a different WP machine here.

-Sir Squirts-a-lot's is a parody of Chuck E. Cheese's. That sounds nothing like it, I know. I just wanted to have an "-a-lot" name in there somewhere. Squirt was the first thing that popped into my mind (I blame _Finding Nemo_). And then I realized it sounded very... suggestive. Um. But I decided to leave it as is, just for the lulz. Hey, Sam found it funny! xD

Anyway, if you liked this, please review! If you still feel like staring at your screen after surviving 39 pages of this ridiculousness, that is... ^^;;;


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